


The Kind of Angel That Advises From Your Shoulder and Finds Himself Ignored

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Monsters Weren't Sealed Underground, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Brotherly Love, Child Abuse, Davesprite can become invisible bc he is kind of a ghost, Davesprite is a Monster, Davesprite-centric, Davey seemed like a good choice, Depressed Sans (Undertale), Disabled Character, Draco Malfoy-centric, Evil Lucius Malfoy, Explicit Language, Gen, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Harry Potter-centric, Healthy Relationships, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Malfoy is a bigot a slaveowner and a mama's boy and that hasn't changed, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Alternating, POV Davesprite, POV First Person, POV Sans (Undertale), POV Third Person, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Sans (Undertale) Needs a Hug, Sans (Undertale)-centric, Short, Slavery, Unhealthy Relationships, actually Sans needs therapy but there isn't a tag for that, all sans chapters will be a little messed up so be warned yknow, and also, at least not mcs, by which i mean ~magic~ violence, for both Sans and Harry, he was raised by dave, no more hs characters though, sort of bc they're still at the Dursley's, the romance ain't happening any time soon, this fic came to me in a fever dream, why is Davesprite here? idk i needed a character for Harry to grow up with, written by an american so calm down i don't speak tea imperialism, yeah i'll let harry curse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25829887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Monster souls are fragile. They dust so easily. Even muggles can fell them with the right intent. Is it so wrong, asked the mages, to want to protect them from the barbarians? We know best, they promised, just listen to us.The monsters never should have trusted them, but it's much too late now.
Relationships: Blaise Zabini & Grillby (Undertale), Grillby/Sans (Undertale), Harry Potter & Davesprite, Harry Potter/Original Muggle Character, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Pansy Parkinson & Muffet (Undertale), Sans (Undertale) & Draco Malfoy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	1. One: Sans

**Author's Note:**

> As you can see, I am not a British TERF, so I don't own Harry Potter, and I don't have an original character in Super Smash Bros Ultimate and a song in Pokémon, so I don't own Undertale. I don't write webcomics, either, so I can't claim Davesprite.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans regrets everything. He'll probably do it again. It's a vicious cycle.
> 
> Maybe it's a foreordained dialectic between two parties, forever doomed to circle in thesis and antithesis and never reach synthesis.
> 
> Or maybe he's just a numbskull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for chapter one: suicidal ideation, implied abuse, implied torture (brief.)

The Anteroom is cold and dank, just the same as it had been last week, and last year, and when he was a terrified, angry little six year old babybones. Sans quivers weakly, hugging his legs to his ribcage. A conjured draft brushes against his robes- he’s anxious to change out of them, he’s pretty sure they’re mildewing.

The lightless place gives him no indication of the time, and the haze of alternation slumber and wakefulness certainly doesn’t help him guess. It was late morning when he was remanded, but a few hours to a full day could have passed and he wouldn’t know the difference. He’s hungry, but that doesn’t mean much, because the wizardling hadn’t wanted breakfast so he didn’t get any either. The longest he had ever spent locked away was a little over a week, but he doesn’t think a stupid quip will be measured quite as severely as an escape attempt. (He cringes, involuntarily recalling the first and only time he’s ever been subjected to the cruciatus.)

He can get used to the cold, really, even when it makes his bones sting. He can accept the darkness, even though he could dispel it easily without his damned collar. But the worst part of this punishment is the way he starts to long for company. Sans lets his skull fall back against the wall and _thunk_ heavily against it, keening miserably. He wants something, anything, to occupy his thoughts. Frustrated tears prick at his eye sockets, and he swallows thickly and tries to stifle them. He wonders how long he’d have to stay here to fall down, soul devoid of any affection and positive affirmation. He wonders if he’ll even make it to twenty-five, proper adulthood for his people. He wonders if he’ll live to see the wizardling marry his betrothed. (Heh, he actually kinda hopes he doesn't, Parkinson is a special kind of nightmare. He doesn't much look forward to living with her and that spider. He doesn't even want to _imagine_ the kind of heirs they'll have—he shudders involuntarily.)

He wonders, darkly, if he’ll be the one to take his life, or if his mage will tire and dispose of him first.

. . .

Merlin. The Anteroom always messes with his head, but it’s rarely this bad. He’s pretty sure he’s too expensive a toy to be tossed so easily. He entertains the idea that the disruption in his usual mental traffic is caused by something funny in yesterday’s dinner. (Probably yesterday, might be ereyesterday.)

Blearily, he realizes he’s falling back asleep. He must be, heh, _bone tired_. His musings finally set to rest, he’s peaceful once more, but he never stops shivering. It’s still so cold. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all, first fic! (I didn't think it would be Harry Potter, but my other WIPs are disagreeing with me.) Chapters are short, updates are random, I'm writing this for my own fun, enjoy!  
> (Did anyone catch the Hegel reference in the summary?)


	2. Two: Davesprite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davesprite takes care of his brother-chick. Anything else had better wait in line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here come the wholesome boys. =D  
> Davesprite's chapters are in first and second person.

You were so small when they died, brother-chick, and so was I. Shit’s unfair. You oughta be loved by more than just me, brother-chick, even though you’ve said I’m enough plenty of times. You don’t deserve to sleep in a cupboard. Too many spiders for a little man.

You’re pretty good at magic by now, although I’m pretty sure other mages use sticks to direct theirs. We’d know fuck all about that, since we haven’t seen any in the last eight years. You said you’re looking forward to when they come back for you, to take us away from here. Privately, I wonder if they’ll even come at all. I don’t remember when magic school’s supposed to start. Maybe they forgot about you. I hope not. You need out, as soon as possible. The mages are lucky I remembered that my kind aren’t allowed to reveal ourselves to mundane humans, otherwise shit would’ve hit the fan for your relatives already.

Gog, you’re so small still, smaller than you should be. You cuddle farther into my arms, sleeping face illuminated by bars of light falling through the slats in the cupboard door. I’m surrounded by the evidence of your childhood, all the crude crayon drawings on the walls. I stopped being so mad because it never helps, but I've never been okay with it. I’m still angry for you, brother-chick. Always have been. But I’ll be happy for you, too, when you need it. I’ll take care of you.

You have a maths test tomorrow. We made sure you were ready for it before you fell asleep. You’re smart as hell, and I’m always happy to see you take home a good grade. You told me your teachers don’t trust you, because your aunt told them lies about you, but that they’ve never proven you cheated, because you didn't. You think they must be dumb as hell if they haven’t realised they’ve been duped yet, because Dudley is so obviously a cruel dunderhead. He still tries to copy your work sometimes, but you’ve not let him do so in a long while. You told me recently that there was one exception to the teachers not liking you much, your music teacher Ms Livingston. She sounds nice. It isn’t fucking enough, though, one teacher who isn’t a dumbass doesn’t make up for the rest. I’m glad you’re having a good year, of course. You even made a friend that Dudley couldn’t scare off, too. You talk about Lucy often nowadays. She’s blonde and wears ribbons in her hair, and she has braces on her legs and uses crutches. She’s fearless and bright and considerate. You say you draw together, and talk about bugs. Brother-chick, you don’t know it but I’m so relieved. You need friends, people who can know you in a way a guardian cannot. I wish I could meet Lucy, but you don’t think she’s a mage. You asked me if it bothered me, that she’s not magic like us. It doesn’t, and I told you so. I teased that you were in love, laughing quietly when you blushed. I’m not serious about it when I tease you, and you know that too. Since you’re going to the park tomorrow, you said I could visit secretly and watch you two play. I told you that’s creepy, and I can introduce myself later, when you're sure you'll be lifelong friends and she won't tell someone, and most kids ain't any good at lying besides, little man.

You’re going to be alright, brother-chick. I’ll fucking promise you that much.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The daylight he greets once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warnings as chapter one.

Sans is roused by the scrape of heavy wood on stone. The sudden light streaming in after what felt like an eternity in darkness blinds him, though he can’t bring himself to feel anything but relief. Finally, the worst of his ordeal is over.

He averts his eyelights meekly to the floor even before his sight adjusts, not willing to risk offending the older child while it’s so easy to simply shut the door once more and leave him in the dark and the cold.

“Do you think you’re ready to act as a _proper_ familiar now?” A perfect pureblood’s haughty, cold tone overlaid with the voice of someone who, despite how he would style himself as his father in miniature, was still ten years old and thoroughly adolescent really is something. Merlin, he might snicker if he weren’t still shivering and miserable and so, so unfairly scared.

Right, focus, this question is a trap. He’s too insensible to try and think his way out of it, so he monotonously replies, “i. . . whatever you think, master.” Deference to his authority is usually safe. He recalls a time when he was defiant to a self sabotaging degree, but that was a good while ago and he really only succeeded in hurting himself.

Draco Malfoy laughs. It’s an abrasive sound. It haunts his nightmares. Face alight with cruel amusement, the wizard drops to his knees in front of his possession. The skeleton swallows. “Oh, not so sharp tongued now? You always act so much better after a little while in there.” One of Draco’s pale hands cups his left mandible. Weakly, he leans into the touch. Merlin, but he's starved of this kind of interaction. Not the strife, he has that in abundance, but the kind, fleeting gestures extended to him when the mages want him to act a certain way and decided to use the carrot instead of the stick. “Maybe I should employ it more often, preemptively, hmm?”

Sans knows he’s being taunted. He still winces, shrinking away now from the affection that’s turned cold. “please don’t, master.”

He doesn’t respond to that, only rises to his feet. Finally, Sans is allowed to step out into his mage’s bedchambers. He scrambles up with uncharacteristic haste. A glance at the window suggests it’s morning—a whole day has passed then.

“Hurry up and change, we’re busy today,” Draco orders sharply. He’s searching his bookshelf with his back turned. Sans shuffles unsteadily to their armoire, where he finds what would be his least favorite robes if the orange miscreation didn’t exist. They're mint green, sheer poet sleeves decorated with golden suns, and the collar has a similar design choice, which is to say the neckline is fastened with a golden ribbon.

Terrible. He wrinkles his nasal ridge.

Still, the robes he wears now are clammy, and he’s not going to start up his disobedience so soon after being let out of _there_. He should just get it over with.

After discarding his blue garments, he slips the godsawful attire over his skull with minimal but surely present struggle, immediately missing the cowl neckline present in most of his robes. He dutifully knots the ribbon into a very limp bow, cringing at how foolish he looks. The mirror informs him he looks presentable. He quietly thanks it.

“Are you done, then?” the wizardling asks, tapping his foot. He nods, gaze flickering back to the other. He wonders what they’re doing, but not enough to speak out of turn yet. “Good. We’ll be going, then.” Draco takes the book he’s chosen with him, so he can only assume it’ll be dull. Sans fancies that he won’t get such a luxury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, critique is appreciated and encouraged, but remember I'm basically writing this for myself.


	4. Update

Hey y'all.

So, the gist of it is that like two people are following this thing, and I wanted to let both of you know that I still think this is a good concept but I'm not happy with the direction I took it so I'm going to rework it and then link to the new story once it's up.

Promise I'll update faster when I actually have a better plot lol.


	5. sorry

so uh I'm orphaning this because I haven't been interested in either fandom in a hot minute.


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